And Us
by perxephne
Summary: Trapped in a marriage based on duty rather desire, only serves to set Jon and Sansa at odds with one another, until they unexpectedly discover common ground. {One-shot, AU}.


**Author's Note:** {AU} one-shot written for **sansasource** 'Sansa Week' 2018 Tumblr challenge.

Prompt: 'Family'.

* * *

 **And Us**

"Jon."

Startled, Jon whirled around at the sound of Sansa's voice, hastily rolling up the parchment he had just been about to peruse, an ancient Targaryen treatise Sam had recently sent him from King's Landing. "Sansa," he said, setting it aside, "this is... unexpected."

"But I hope not unpleasant," Sansa countered, folding her hands before her, barely sparing the bookshelves a glance. She hadn't set foot in the library in years, reminding her too much of the past, when she had drugged herself with dreams of the gallant knights and fair maidens who dwelt between the dusty pages.

"Not at all," Jon said quickly, trying to avoid yet another awkward silence, "I've just never had the pleasure of your company in here before."

"I don't think you take much pleasure from my company to begin with," Sansa said coolly. They had been wed six months, strangers swearing an oath to one another in the godswood, binding their lives together, but the passage of time hadn't brought them any closer.

"Neither you from mine," Jon said equally as coolly. Their marriage was nothing more than an alliance made to secure the Iron Throne, and he hadn't expected affection never mind love. He was a Targaryen, she a Stark, but unlike her ancestors, Sansa didn't bend the knee before him. She was living ice, her very gaze enough to freeze him to the marrow, and for all the battles he'd fought, he lacked the knowledge to breach her barricades.

His words stung despite herself. "It is no matter," she said abrubtly, wondering why his indifference should injure her. She had married him for the greater good, to ensure the safety of the North, her heart holding no place in the proceedings to broker peace.

Jon bowed his head. "I... I didn't mean to insult you," he said, exhaling sharply. "I... I just don't know how to reach you."

Sansa stared at him. "Reach me?" she snapped. "Are you intoxicated? We aren't a tale told by a troubadour, of a king and his lady love" -

\- " _Love!?"_ Jon scoffed. "I'm not talking about love. I'm talking about some civility at least. I share your bed, dine at your table, but every time I look into your eyes, all I see is ice. "

"We each do our duty," Sansa retorted, "but it doesn't mean we have to like it."

"Can't you at least try to like _me?_ " Jon blurted out, stunning Sansa.

" _Like you!?_ " Sansa said incredulously. "Have you taken leave of your senses!?"

"I'm faithful to you," Jon said, his voice cracking, "I don't raise my hands to you" -

\- "And I have endured your very presence under my roof," Sansa said, drawing herself to her full height, "without complaint or opposition. I oversee the workings of Winterfell so you can see to matters of state. I entertain your guests and ensure their every comfort. I strive to be the chatelaine my mother raised me to be. But I refuse to demean my dignity by pretending to actually _like_ you" -

\- "I wed you with eyes wide open, Sansa," Jon said, rounding on her, "I knew this to be no love match. But I didn't want an unwilling woman in my bed either" -

\- "I came to you that first night at my own freewill," Sansa said coldly, "and every night ever since then. You would know otherwise, my lord."

\- "Yes, a dagger in my side would be rather telling, would it not?" Jon flung back. "Or maybe a slit throat if we're aspiring to the picturesque."

Despite herself, Sansa smiled, turning away too late.

"Oh, my impending death amuses you, does it?" Jon flared up, stalking over to her. "In some quarters that could be called treason."

"What, will you execute me as a traitor?" Sansa challenged, rounding on him this time. "Shall I plead with my belly to escape the noose?"

Jon looked at her for a long moment, brows drawing together. "You're not..." he said, hesitating before reaching out his hand to her stomach. "Are you?"

"I am," Sansa said, her voice cracking. "I thought you would like to know."

Jon's gaze searched her face. "I would," he said quietly, pressing his palm against her abdomen, "very much so."

 _Don't you dare take my hand_  
 _If you want to be free..._


End file.
